


A Puzzle Out of Death

by pingnova



Series: Lost Moments [2]
Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Attempted Murder, Character Death, Crime Scenes, Crimes & Criminals, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fic Graveyard, Gore, Grave Robbers, M/M, Matricide, Murder, Patricide, Pining, Prompt Fic, Serial Killers, Suicide Attempt, Wakes & Funerals, gravediggers, morgues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 07:45:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10157831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pingnova/pseuds/pingnova
Summary: “You didn’t come in today.” A pause. “Is everything alright?”There were a hundred things he could say to that: “My family is dead because of me.” “I’m going to dig graves the rest of my life.” “I’m running out of places to hide the bodies.” “I fell in love with an emotionless morgue tech.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Snippets of a fic I'd love to continue but probably won't. The first chapter would be entitled "Primrose Lacuna" and this probably wouldn't be the first chapter. Fill for prompts [71](http://wthkinkmeme.tumblr.com/post/86164841681/sock-is-a-serial-killer-and-jon-works-at-the) and [404](http://wthkinkmeme.tumblr.com/post/92839403689/sock-is-a-serial-killer-who-sends-letters-to-the) on the Welcome to Hell Kink Meme on Tumblr.

Sock had a job. He dug graves for the nearby crematory and whoever else wanted their final resting place to be the serene Primrose Cemetery. It looked nice, as far as cemeteries went. Trees enclosed it on all sides, the woods started on the north end. It was small, historical (the home of three famous pilots and, according to his boss, a senator), and quiet. Out of the way, so that the most traffic that traveled the county road nearby was maybe five cars a day.

At one time this had been good for him. He didn’t need an audience when he buried his parents and he didn’t need anyone watching him off himself after. 

But he didn't off himself. How could he, when suddenly, the whole town was interested in the murder. He had their attention, even if they didn't know it was him. 

He continued his spree, teased the police via mail, and acquired a problem: the beautiful Jonathan Combs, their new morgue technician. 

  


* * *

  


“Are you really sitting in a hole?”

“Yes.”

Grass shushed as Jonathan shuffled to the edge of the hole. Dirt plunked onto Sock’s hat when he swung his legs over the edge and took a seat. Sock didn’t react. Jonathan would grow bored of watching him wallow in the dirt and then he would leave. Then Sock wouldn’t have to try so hard not to look at him, wouldn’t be tempted to ask him crazy things, wouldn’t worry Jonathan would see his heart fluttering and know.

Jonathan had said so himself. He wasn’t interested in anyone. But if that was true, then why was he here?

“What do you want?” Sock finally mumbled.

“You didn’t come in today.” A pause. “Is everything alright?”

There were a hundred things he could say to that: “My family is dead because of me.” “I’m going to dig graves the rest of my life.” “I’m running out of places to hide the bodies.” “I fell in love with an emotionless morgue tech.”

What he did say was  _ Everything’s fine _ . To which Jonathan replied with a shrug, and he didn’t leave, and Sock rose to his feet and finally faced him. He couldn’t believe his gall. Here he was, sitting at the edge of a grave like it was any other park bench, looking perfectly calm and normal with a big sweatshirt over his scrubs and little diamonds in his eyes that drilled a laser hole through his chest where a heart should be. Wind teased his hair. He was here, unmoving, but he wasn’t interested in anyone. Wasn’t interested in Sock. Probably wasn’t even interested in himself.

Sock clenched his fists and bit his lower lip as pressure built in his head and behind his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry over this boy. He didn’t want anything to do with him.

“Go away.”

“No.”

“Why not?” His voice hitched a little.

“I’m not going to leave you alone when you’re sitting in a grave marked ‘Me’.”

“I always sit in graves,” he mumbled. “You always wanted me to go away and this is your chance. Just leave and you probably won’t see me ever again.”

“Well, yeah, I wanted you to leave…”

Sock huddled against one of the walls, head in his arms. Of course he knew that.

“Woah, hey. What did I say now?”

“Just what you always have,” he said to the dark space formed by his arms and legs.

“I said I  _ wanted  _ you to leave. I’m here now because I want to see you. I… I guess I missed you a little bit.”

Sock’s face appeared. Jonathan watched his knees as he kicked his legs. 

“You missed me?”

“A little bit.”

Sock’s grin felt like it would tear his face apart. Jonathan missed him.

The letter he composed that evening was from the exact spot Jonathan had sat, in the red light of sunset once it burnt the clouds away. It told the policemen that there were glimmers of hope for his love and that he wouldn’t give up. It said “I’m going to have his blue diamond eyes and he’ll have my heart.” The policemen would trip over themselves trying to find the hidden message, the references to a new victim, the directions to a body. But they wouldn’t find anything, because Sock wasn’t making a puzzle out of death this time. No, this time he wouldn’t be challenging investigators, but himself.

He wanted Jonathan’s blue diamond eyes. Maybe someday Jonathan would want Sock’s broken heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Also on [Tumblr](http://pingnova.tumblr.com/post/158098769421/a-game-out-of-death).
> 
> Eventually reworked into a full story: [Diamonds in the Dirt](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10299881/chapters/22785980).


End file.
